


Hair Problems

by batwayneman



Category: DCU
Genre: DC Trinity, Friendship, Gen, This whole fic is just friendship and sass, and some robot goo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batwayneman/pseuds/batwayneman
Summary: Diana is trying to clean up her hair, Clark just wants to finish his article, and Bruce...is being Bruce.





	Hair Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [androbeaurepaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/androbeaurepaire/gifts).



Diana continued to pick through the mess of what could only be described as _goo_ , trying to get it out of her hair. She had thought she had gotten it all out in her hasty shower, but quite apparently had _not_.

She only knew two things about whatever the substance those robots had used in their cannons: it flew everywhere when said cannon was destroyed; and that it was incredibly difficult to remove from hair.

She had been working on picking out the goo long enough that her damp hair had soaked into her too-big sweatshirt. She was sitting in the Watchtower, along with Clark and Bruce; everyone else had already left and returned home after the battle. 

It had, in Diana’s opinion, been one of the best kinds of battle. The robots themselves had been numerous, though easily taken down, despite their cannons, and the fight had been in a particularly barren part of Australia, so there hadn’t been any civilians to worry about.

The only sound in the room was Clark’s frantic typing of whatever article he had been working on when the robots interrupted him, and the gentler noise of Bruce meticulously checking over his each of his gadgets, as he did after every fight.

Well, and her own grunts, from waging war on the goo before it could completely solidify.

“Wouldn’t shorter hair make that easier?”

She turned and glared at Bruce. He met her eyes for a second, before looking back at the tool in his lap. He picked up the goo-free device - the grapnel gun? -, putting it back in its place in his belt on the seat beside him. He had actually taken off his Batsuit for once, opting for a black turtleneck instead.

“Yes, but I like my hair long,” she replied with a curt smile, and Bruce harrumphed. Her hair, which flowed more than halfway down her back in thick, black waves, was a familiar source of banter between them.

Bruce, who valued efficiency and practicality, always claimed that he didn’t understand why she kept it so long, especially when it created so much difficulty. She privately thought he just liked to bicker, and she was usually happy to oblige.

“And,” she continued, tugging on a particularly stubborn bit of goo, “It’s a good thing I do, because cutting it—” she pulled the chunk out—“is _not_ easy.”

At the resulting silence, she turned to Bruce, who was looking at her, eyebrow slightly raised in question. “But you can cut it?”

“Yes. It’s not impossible,” she assured him, moving on to another section of hair. “But it requires a lot of force,” she paused, “and my sword.”

“I imagine most hairdressers are unfamiliar using swords to cut hair,” he said, unfazed. Diana smiled.

“Yes, so really it’s just as well that —”

“What’s another word for lying?” Clark suddenly spoke up, not taking his eyes off the laptop in front of him. They were used to his interruptions, in his search for the perfect word.

“Mendacious?” Diana asked, looking at him where he was sitting on the bench across from her.

He shook his head, “Nope not it.” He narrowed his eyes, glaring at his own writing.

“Disingenuous,” suggested Bruce.

Clark’s face twisted into a grimace. “Closer, but no, not that one either - I’ll find it.”

He adjusted the glasses on his nose, staring intently at his screen. He too had changed into civilian clothing, complete with his glasses, but his windswept hair could only belong to Superman.

She envied him, a little. _He_ hadn’t got any robot goo in his hair.

“Clark,” she asked, a thought suddenly occurring to her, “how do you cut your hair?” He, and presumably his hair, was even more invulnerable than she was.

“Oh, uhh - carefully,” he said, finally looking up, meeting her gaze with a half smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a barely imperceptible exasperated shake of Bruce’s head.

“It grows really slowly, so I don’t have to do it often, but when I was a kid Ma found that a sharp piece of the ship I came on can cut it.”

“Clever,” Diana said, nodding her head slowly, moving her fingers to another strand.

“Heat vision probably could too, but I don’t want to give myself a bald spot.”

Beside her, Bruce shifted slightly, and looked up at Clark. “When did she discover the fragment could cut your hair?”

“It took a while. My hair wasn’t strong until I was… fifteen? Around fifteen. Before that we could just cut it normally, but one day she tried and the scissors broke. I think it was Pa who finally suggested the metal piece, but it got pretty long before he thought to try it,” Clark said, reaching up and running his hand through his hair, feeling the length.

“Hmph.” Bruce looked back down at his belt. “That explains your mullet in the pictures your mom showed me.” 

Clark’s jaw dropped, and Diana’s eyes widened with glee, grinning as she looked back and forth between them.

“She did not!” Clark protested, more pleading than angry.

“She did not,” confirmed Bruce. He looked up again, a sly smile on his face. “But now I know they exist.”

Diana burst out laughing at the utter betrayal on Clark’s face.

“As if you didn’t have enough blackmail,” she chided, once she had stopped giggling.

Bruce twitched his shoulder up in a half shrug, unbothered.

“You know, I bet Alfred has some unflattering pictures of you,” Clark said, his pout fading as his face lit up at the idea.

“I’ve never had an unflattering picture,” Bruce deadpanned, pointedly ignoring Clark’s snort of disbelief. Diana grinned, rolling her eyes. She winced as her fingers snagged on a particularly thick patch of goo, and she started trying to untangle it.

“I’ll find one. Jason will help me - and Diana!” Clark vowed, pushing his glasses back onto his nose from where they had slipped in his indignation.

“I will,” she agreed, and Clark smiled at her. Bruce didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like he was engrossed in cleaning the pristine gadget in his lap.

“Deceitful!” Clark gasped suddenly, and looked back to his laptop, typing with renewed ferocity.

“You know,” Diana said after a moment of silence, “You will never find an embarrassing childhood picture of me.”

“I don’t need childhood photos to embarrass you,” Bruce said, shooting her a Look, “you still have robot lubrication in your hair.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed :)


End file.
